


Kiss the Messenger

by speedyvibraniumdevil



Series: Pietro Maximoff/Quicksilver [5]
Category: Avengers, Marvel, Pietro Maximoff - Fandom, Quicksilver - Fandom
Genre: Cussing, F/M, Modern AU, Pietro being an idiot, Wanda makes a small cameo in the beginning, bike messenger!pietro, mentions of blood and scrapes but nothing major, pure fluff, reader hating said idiot but then slowly getting a huge crush
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-02-21
Updated: 2019-02-21
Packaged: 2019-11-01 16:34:13
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,881
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17870789
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/speedyvibraniumdevil/pseuds/speedyvibraniumdevil
Summary: (Modern AU) After a bad break up, you’re sure you’re done with men. Dating is out of the question, until Pietro Maximoff crashes into your life (literally and very painfully). He offers to make it up to you, and despite your anger, you let him.





	Kiss the Messenger

The streets of Manhattan crawled with citizens of all kinds as they always did. No one paid attention to anyone, as they were all too busy with getting to their own destination, so you blended in seamlessly, which you didn’t mind. You liked it that way. You could be dressed in a clown suit and no one would look twice. That was the beauty of New York City.

You had just finished your shift at Dean and Deluca, a nice coffee shop by Rockefeller Center, and were now preoccupied with a phone call with your best friend. Both of you had been in an animated conversation for the past 10 minutes.  

“No, Wanda, I’m fine. Truly.”

“Are you sure? Because you know I can go over there and kill him for you,” she said over the phone.

You chuckled, “Sounds enticing, but no. At this point I’m over it. He was an asshole, I dumped him, and now I’m moving on with my life.”

“Dumping him was probably the best decision you’ve ever made. Aside from being my friend, of course.”

“You’re absolutely right.”

“I always am,” she said and then excitedly said, “You know what you have to do? You have to go out! Have fun! Start dating again. Meet people that are way better than that assface.”

You sighed and shook your head even though she couldn’t see you. “Wanda-”

She gasped, “Wait. What if I introduced you to my brother? You guys have never officially met and now would be a perfect time! I truly think the two of you would be great together.”

“Wanda, no,” you said indignantly.

You stopped at the street corner you were in, across from a hotdog vendor.

“Why not?”

You inhaled deeply and ranted. “I don’t want to meet or date other people. Look, I’m sure your brother is probably great, but….I’m over it. I’m done. With dating, with men, and with being in a relationship. I’m done wasting my time with stupid assholes. I’ve decided that I want to focus on me and be single. Maybe even for the rest of my life.”

There was a sigh on the other end.

“Y/N, I understand what you’re saying….but you’re not going to be single forever. You’re going to find someone one day.”

“Yeah, well, I used to think so too,” you said, biting your lip.

Until life and heartbreak happened. You watched people pass by you and cross the street as you leaned against the lamp post. When you spotted a couple holding hands, you looked away.

“You might not believe it anymore, but I do,” she argued, ever so hopeful. “You’re going to meet the perfect person, and you know what? I think it’s going to happen very soon.

“What are you, a psychic now?,” you scoffed.

She giggled on the other line, “Maybe. When it happens, let me know so I can start my business and get on Ellen.”

“You wish. I just said I’m done with men and that’s that. I don’t even want them to breathe or look in my general direction.”

She laughed, “Don’t be dramatic.”

“It’s true.”

There was a sigh, “Well, I’ll talk to you later. I have work to get to. Don’t wallow in your feelings, and if you need me you know where I’ll be.”

You rolled your eyes. No promises.

“Yeah I know. Talk to you later.”

“Bye!”

You stared down at your phone for  a second to recuperate from the conversation. It had been a while since your break up, but your love life was still a sore topic at the moment. You didn’t feel like getting excited about the potential of meeting someone new, you were just ready to head home and bundle up while eating your feelings out.

You pushed yourself off the street lamp and rounded the corner to head home. In your hand, your phone buzzed with a text. It was Wanda, and the gray bubble read:

“Please think about meeting my brother! I really think you’d like him!”

You shook your head to yourself. She was so stubborn sometimes and it either amused you, or drove you crazy. No in between.

Up ahead, there was the distant sound of someone yelling: “Get off the fucking sidewalk, asshole!”

Your brain automatically filtered it out as you were preoccupied with replying to Wanda. Too preoccupied, in fact, that you didn’t notice the man on the bicycle barreling towards you at full speed.

“Look out!” he yelled.

You only had a split second to look up and realize what was about to happen, before he crashed right into you. The wind was knocked right out of your lungs when metal and limbs hit you full force, and then a second time when your body met concrete. No corner of your body was safe. You felt pain in your right knee, elbows, head, and back.

When the collision itself was finally over, you were facedown, groaning.

“Mother fucker.”

You pushed yourself onto your knees and stopped from moving any further when you got so dizzy you had to close your eyes and rest your hands on your thighs.

“Shit. I am so sorry,” a young male voice came from near you.

He cursed in a language you couldn’t understand.

“Are you okay?”

You felt a hand on your shoulder and opened your eyes. A guy with pale hair and a blue hoodie took off his bike helmet and crouched down beside you. His bright blue eyes were filled with concern. At the moment, you couldn’t find yourself to feel any sympathy since you were pretty pissed.

“Nice going, asshole. What the the hell was that?”

“Look, I’m sorry. It’s just, you came out of nowhere.”

You narrowed your eyes at him. “I came out of nowhere? You’re the one who was riding your bike on the sidewalk like a fucking maniac.”

You hated when cyclists decided to take up the whole sidewalk as if they didn’t have their own lane made for them. That’s why accidents like this happened.

He looked like he wanted to argue or explain himself, as his mouth opened and shut, but thought better of it. Instead he held a hand out to you and helped you get up. A scrape that was showing through a new hole in your jeans stung, as well as some bruises that were starting to form.

You noticed his bike was still on the ground a few feet away, but nobody seemed to care about it, yet.

“You should probably get your bike before someone steals it,” you gritted out.

He looked over his shoulder and nodded in agreement, “Right, right.”

He picked it up and wheeled it back to where he was standing before. His eyes scanned you up and down, which almost made you give him a weird look until you realized he was examining you for injuries.

When he was done he said, “You don’t look like you have broken bones or a concussion, which is good. But you do have some scratches.”

You gave him a weird look. “What are you, a doctor?”

“No, but I’ve gotten hurt enough times to know the difference.”

“Great, so I got ran over by an experienced bike maniac.”

Dirt was still on your clothes, so you brushed it off. Some people stared at you, the ones who witnessed the accident no doubt, but you ignored them.

“Bike messenger, actually,” he corrected you.

You hummed in annoyance. “Great. Well, bike messenger, I’d say it was great meeting you, but what just happened, I’d be lying. Good bye.”

You turned on your heel to leave without wanting to give him another glance. It would have been a more graceful departure had you not acquired a slight limp from your fall. Sure, your right leg might not have been broken, but you hurt something.

“Hey, wait up!” he called out.

You hadn’t even gotten a few steps before you heard the clicking of a bike chain coming up behind you. Now you instinctively moved to the side, thinking it was someone else, but to your dismay, it was the same guy.

He was at your side in two strides.

“What-?”

“Look, I’m really sorry about what happened back there.”

“You said that already.”

“I know, I know, but I was wondering if you’d let me make it up to you? I have a first aid kit in my backpack, I could help patch you up.”

Your cast a curious glance at him. He was like a mixture of an eager puppy dog anda  suave bad boy. How as that even possible?

“It’s okay, I’m fine.”

“Are you sure?” he asked, “Because you’re limping, and kind of bleeding. A lot.”

When you looked at him, he pointed to your chin. You stopped, and with your fingers you touched where he pointed, which surprisingly stung, and you hissed. The tips of your fingers came back red with blood when you pulled away.

“Shit.”

“Yeah,” the bike messenger said, his teeth barred in a guilty expression. He insisted on his offer. “Please, it’s the least I can do. I can buy you food, too. I’ll pay for everything. How does it sound?”

You looked at him fully now, with his big, pleading eyes and boyish smile that you just knew he used to charm people’s pants off.

Where the hell did he come from? Why couldn’t he just be like everyone else in this city and be an asshole? Why did he have to make it harder for you to reject him?

Maybe he was a creep. He could very well be a creep. And yet…

You were ready to storm back home and vent to Wanda again, but the better side of you was telling you to just go with it. Besides, he was offering to buy you food and give free medical care.

How could you pass that up?

* * *

You sat on a park bench next to an open first aid kit, with Pietro leaning in close to your face with a cotton pad.

Pietro, that was his name. A foreign name for a foreign guy. You tried guessing by his accent where he was from and for a hot minute you could’ve sworn he was Russian, but when you asked, he told you he was Sokovian.

Close enough.

You winced as he dabbed at your face. Apparently, what you thought was just a scratch on your chin was a pretty big gash. You didn’t need stitches, thankfully. Or at least that’s what strange bike messenger said. For all you knew, he could’ve been wrong. He was no doctor anyway.

You watched him as he worked carefully with his fingers, which were rough against your skin. You had tried not to make too much eye contact to avoid awkwardness, but you couldn’t help yourself. It was hard when he was so up close and personal.

When you weren’t being pissed with with the kid who almost killed you, you found that it was easy to admire him.

Yeah, at a glance you had found him boyish, but there were features about him that made him look more manly. Like the sharpness of his jaw and nose, the shadow of facial hair on his skin, and the sudden seriousness in his eyes when he was concentrated on a task.

You didn’t notice it earlier, but there was a newly forming bruise on his cheek, surrounding a small scratch.

He must have sensed you staring, because he looked up and caught your eye. You looked away quickly, heat from a blush radiating in your cheeks. A small smirk graced his lips, which made it worse.

“What? Do I have something on my face?” he asked with a quirk of his eyebrows.

“Yeah, actually, you have a bit of a bruise there,” you said, pointing to that part of his face.

“Nice. A good one I hope.”

“Well, if you’re looking to look like you just got into a fight, then sure.”

He grinned at you, “That’s exactly what I want to look like.”

You rolled your eyes playfully.

“I’m just offended you’re in better shape than I am.”

He chuckled, “I think the helmet and very fashionable elbow and knee pads had something to do with it. Although, I’m sure I’ll have some pretty gnarly bruises later. Thanks to you.”

You narrowed your eyes and scoffed at him, ready to argue.

“Me? I’m not the one who-”

“I’m joking.”

He flashed his eyes at you in amusement and you almost wanted to punch him. Instead you found yourself hiding a smile.

“Ha. Ha.”

He slid off the bench and crouched down next to your knee, which had an ice pack on it for the pain. He removed it, and got to cleaning it up.

“So, how long have you been a bike messenger?”

He furrowed his brow pensively.

“Since I graduated college, soooooo two years now?”

You hissed as he wiped the scrape on your leg with an alcohol pad.

“Don’t be a baby,” he sang.

You stuck your tongue out at him while he wasn’t looking, then continued with your questioning.

“And what made you want to be one?”

He shrugged, “At first….I needed the money.”

“But why bike messenger, why not….an Uber driver, or something?”

He laughed. “Oh, I’ve been an Uber driver. I’ve also been a waiter, a barista, I’ve worked at a clothing store, and I fucking hated it. All of it. But this? I love it.”

“What’s so special about it?” You were intrigued.

“It’s fun. It’s fast. I’m always moving. And I love all of those things. Plus I get to ride around the city every day, meeting new people instead of being stuck in an office all day. That to me, is enough,” he explained before adding, “For the time being, of course.”  

He put a thin bandage over your knee and with that he was done. He looked at you with a grin and nodded once.

“All finished.”

You managed a smile at him. “Thank you, Doctor.”

“My pleasure,” he smirked, which made your breath hitch. Luckily he didn’t notice.

You took out your phone and looked at yourself with the front facing camera. Two strips held your skin together from the front to the bottom of your chin. You touched it carefully.

That was gonna leave a scar. Luckily a lot of people thought scars were badass.

Pietro packed up the first aid kit and put it back into this backpack, which he slung over his shoulders. With an incline of his head, he motioned down the walkway.

“We’re not done yet, though,” he said, “I still owe you food. I hope you’re hungry.”

On queue, your stomach rumbled with hunger.

With flashing eyes you responded with, “Very.”

* * *

The two of you walked over to the local Shake Shack that was located at the center of the park, a place you hadn’t been to in a while.

While Pietro wento to order your food, you waited at one of the metal tables, thinking about how wild it was that you were just run over by some guy on a bike and now he was buying you food. How was it that you weren’t seething with anger right now or at least, incredibly uncomfortable in the presence of this random person? This started off that way, sure, but now with the food it was turning into something that reminded you of a weird tinder date.

Speaking of…hadn’t Wanda said that you would meet the love of your life soon? You shook your head at the thought. No, that was too crazy. There was no way.

When Pietro came back with your food, those thoughts were put on pause, and the both of you engaged in conversation. It was crazy how easily he could start one. He didn’t seem terrified of you at all. That was a first, considering the resting bitch face you tended to have outside of work. Maybe it was because he was foreign.

You talked a bit about each other to pass the time, and as you did so, you found yourself getting more relaxed despite you injuries.

Apparently, Pietro was in a band. As the drummer no less. They played gigs here and there, and he hoped they’d sign a record deal sometime soon, but for now he worked as a bike messenger to pay for bills and rent.

This bit of information intrigued you, because it aligned so well with what you wanted to do with your life.

“What about you?” he asked after talking about himself for a bit. “What’s your deal?”

“My ‘deal’?”

“Yeah, I can’t talk about myself this entire time. Even if I probably could.”

You chuckled, before thinking about where to start. It was crazy how every single detail about yourself suddenly disappears from your mind the second someone asks you to speak about yourself.

Am I even that interesting? You thought.

You found yourself being honest and let the first thing come out. “Well, I just got out of a bad break up. So there’s that.”

He raised his eyebrows, intrigued. “Really? What happened? If you don’t mind me asking.”

You exhaled sharply as you remembered everything. To spare him the long winded story, you kept it short and simple.

“We were together for two years. When I decided to switch careers, he became kind of an asshole, jealous, controlling. I didn’t want to put up with it. Found out he was talking to other girls, which gave me the excuse to dump him. And now I’m here.”

After a moment of silence, as if he was waiting to make sure you were finished, Pietro said, “Sounds like a prick.”

You hummed, “He was indeed.”

“I’m sure you’re better off now, aren’t you?”

“Yeah,” you nodded with so much confidence. “Oh yeah. I’ve realized that I can’t spare room for people that don’t truly love and support me. Especially when it comes to doing something that I love.”

He nodded, impressed by your wisdom. “And that is?”

“Acting,” you said simply.

He say up straighter, his arms on the table. “You want to be an actress?”

“Yeah. I know it’s stupid and crazy, but-”

“No, no, no, that’s not stupid. I think it’s great. People don’t realize how hard it actually is to follow a dream like that.”

Your eyes lit up at how true that statement was.

“Exactly!” you exclaimed with such passion.

The two of you smiled at each other for a moment before continuing to talk for what felt like forever. About your dreams and about how no one else seemed to understand. It felt so nice to get something off your chest that you’ve been wanting to for so long.

You almost never wanted it to end, but to your dismay, it had to.

“I have a gig to rehearse for,” he said with a disappointed tone, after looking at a text on his phone.

Deflated you said, simply, “Oh, okay.”

He put his phone away and leaned on the table, his gaze hard on you.

“But, I….I really enjoyed talking with you. This is definitely not how I imagined this going at all, but…”

“Yeah, I don’t think I ever imagined having lunch with a guy that ran me over with his bike, but it turned out great all things considering,” you laughed and he joined in.

“I hope this made you hate me a little bit less,” he said, referring to the empty plates of food.

“What makes you think that I hate you?”

“Oh I don’t know, maybe the fact that I almost killed you earlier, or even the fact that you looked like you wanted to kill me after,” he drawled sarcastically.

You smiled, “I mean, I did want to strangle you.”

His eyes flashed, but he didn’t lose his amused smile. “Which is fair.”

“And maybe at the time I did hate you, but….”

“But..?” he urged you to go on.

“But….you’re not so bad,” you shrugged, “And the food was delicious.”

“Good, I’m glad,” he smiled and his eyes lingered on your face.

Strange. So strange…but not a bad strange.

He shook himself out of his stupor and got up from his seat quickly, grabbing his backpack. To your surprise, you felt a swell of disappointment.

“Anyways, I should head out,” he seemed preoccupied for a second, but then remembrance flashed in his eyes, “But hey, maybe, maybe you should stop by our show. It’s this weekend at Gussy’s Bar & Grille. Have you been there?”

“No, but I’ve heard of it.”

They played live music there all the time. You and Wanda had always wanted to go, but never got around to doing it.

Pietro dug around his backpack and took out a wrinkled bright pink flyer handed it to you with a hopeful smile on his face. You looked down at it and read the list of bands playing, wondering which one was his.

As if reading your mind, he said, “Our band is Insomnia. We’ll be playing third.”

The disappointment was not replaced with hope and excitement. You looked up at him and grinned.

“Awesome. I’ll definitely try and stop by.”

You’d get your shift covered if you had to.

He slung his backpack over his shoulders, and he looked about ready to go again, but now it was your turn to stop him.

“Wait,” you took your phone out of your pocket, “Maybe I should get your number? Just in case.”

A shitty excuse, but you had no better one other than the fact that you wanted his number to have it. Funny, earlier you were sure you’d never date again, but now you didn’t want to waste the opportunity to do it again. At least not with this human.

He chuckled at your excuse, but took your phone all the same. He looked just as eager as you did. You handed him your phone, and he deftly typed in his contact information. When he handed it back to you with a smile, he said,

“Let me know if you can come by and see us.”

You smiled, “I will.”

He hopped onto his bike and strapped on his helmet.

“I hope I see you again,” he winked, which made you blush. “And try not to get into anymore accidents.”

“Ditto,” you said shaking your head.

With that he rode off and you watched him go for a bit, before he disappeared behind some trees. It was then that you looked down at your phone, at Pietro’s new contact profile. You were taken aback when you saw his full name.

Pietro  _Maximoff_.

“Maximoff?!” you exclaimed to yourself.

That was Wanda’s last name, you had never met her brother, but you knew she had one. A twin, no less. It couldn’t be a coincidence that you met a guy with the same last time who looked about the same age as her.

You looked up, back in the direction where Pietro had left towards. You were slack-jawed, on the verge of laughter.

No wonder he seemed to familiar.

Oh, Wanda was going to love this.

**Author's Note:**

> I know they don't actually kiss, I just really wanted the title to be a play on words. DON'T @ ME.


End file.
